


Collared

by withinmelove



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Collars, Light Dom/sub, M/M, collaring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-08
Updated: 2017-08-08
Packaged: 2018-12-12 17:22:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11741706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/withinmelove/pseuds/withinmelove
Summary: Bucky has trouble being alone by himself without destroying stuff. Steve comes to his rescue by buying the perfect collar for him to wear.





	Collared

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first published D/s kind of bondage piece. I've played around with these themes before but didn't discipline myself to sit down to write these out before Bucky. Bucky engaging in D/s and being collared constantly is my new kink. 
> 
> The picture that inspired this piece: http://withinmeloveresides1.tumblr.com/post/161822550550/stevetopsbuckysbottom-it-looks-like-chris-took

The day Bucky pulls Steve from the Potomac river, he decides that he will not be without him again. It’s as simple as that. He hauls the man, who just two minutes ago was his mission to kill, over his shoulder and sets off. 

Of course, it takes times for them to adjust, not only to each other, but ordinary civilian life. A recovery from the symbols they’ve become rather than men born again. Somehow they manage to find money, shelter and food. It helps that both are presumed to be dead at the other’s hand and their bodies stolen by the enemy. The most difficult trial is the permanent unease that lurks beneath Bucky’s skin: when there’s always been a handler at the end of his symbolic leash, it’s unnerving to feel the slack. Even reintegrating into society is easier to bear than this loss of being put in his place.

It takes only one time when Steve is away to find out he cannot be left alone. A destroyed portion of the apartment demonstrates that clear enough. Shame clogs up his throat at the sight of the aftermath. Falling to pieces in his panic when left to his own devices. After they clean up the mess, Steve spends the rest of the night in deep thought, eyes far away. The next morning, he rouses Bucky from bed (just as he’s started getting the hang of sleeping in too), saying they’re going out for a bit. 

“Where are we going?” Bucky can’t resist asking, although it’s none of his business.

“To the shop to get you a collar. I think it might do you good.”

He is curious, but asks no more questions. There’s no need to when Steve is holding hands with him as they walk. The shop turns out to be one selling sex toys. Typical with the usual range of dildos, vibrators, cheesy costumes and the like. It’s along the back wall that the collars are arranged. They vary from single unadorned leather in both light and dark colors to large double bands with and without studs, spikes, gems and O-rings.

A bell jingles as they enter and Steve leading him towards the back wall.

“Hello gentlemen, is there anything you two are looking for today?” a saleswoman politely inquires from the aisle with the cockrings. Bucky keeps his eyes on the collars, examining the different designs. A relief to see nothing here is gaudy. It all speaks of high quality. 

“Yes, just a small plain leather collar for him. Dark brown or black and no faux fur. Suede for the lining is preferred,” Steve reels off as the woman nods looking over the collars for his desired one.

Bucky eyes him with wonder. This must have been what had preoccupied Steve last night. Here he’s been thinking of himself as an unstable burden as the urges of the Winter Soldier war with this new man he’s working so hard to become. A collection of the person he used to be and the weapon his mind was wiped to think as. He’s fighting to find birth amidst the death of these two identities. And here is Steve willing to give him the security he needs. He will take Bucky in hand. 

At once, the specified collar is found. A single band of dark brown with a green suede lining. Steve puts the collar around his throat, tightening it just enough so only one finger of his can fit between it and his skin. 

“How does it feel? Too tight?” 

Bucky shakes his head no as he can’t speak. Right now, he can’t begin to describe aloud what safety he feels just from this. How he’s settled into his skin at last with this band of leather to remind him he’s chosen this confinement. In this way, Bucky is his. 

The rest of the day passes in a soft haze. His first two hours, all he can do is notice the soft rubbing of suede against his throat and neck. The rigidity of the collar itself keeping him in place. Steve leads him around by the hand around town as they get groceries and new appliances to replace the ones he broke. He needs Steve’s guidance while he is still absorbing this overwhelming feeling of swaddling. Perfectly boxed in, with his backpack of journals on, the chest strap buckled, and his newest acquisition around his throat. 

By the time they’re home for the day, he’s grown used to the sensation. He wants to keep it on the rest of the evening, but understands this is meant for when Steve isn’t around or when he’s in need of comfort. So of course, Bucky reaches up to unbuckle his collar himself, only to freeze when reprimanded.

“Don’t touch your collar.” 

For a moment Steve pauses as if he’s spoken too harshly even for his taste. He strokes his fingers through Bucky’s hair to soften command. “Only I will take it off, not you or anyone else. This is just for us, you understand? Speak,” he gently orders, when Bucky starts to nod. 

“Yes, I understand.” 

Steve nods and gestures for him to put his backpack aside. A quiet _click_ as he undoes the buckle before the straps and his jacket slide off his shoulders down his arms to the floor. Steve watches him intently, taking in his every move. 

“Good. Now go to our room and get your brush.” 

It’s the simplest thing in the world to follow his command. Bucky wants this guidance. Understands that these will be special moments that are savored when he is in need of that swaddling protection. The brush is sitting in the bathroom drawer where it was last left. When he returns to the living room, Steve has settled on the couch. He points to the floor in front of him and that is where Bucky sits, his back against the couch Steve’s legs on either side of his arms. 

Gently, he works the tie from his hair before he’s scratching Bucky’s scalp, gently untangling the knots as he does so. Bucky’s eyes droop closed, tilting his head back into Steve’s touch. A minute later, the firm drag of the brush has him groaning in appreciation. 

“You’ve done beautifully today, Bucky. I’m proud of you wearing your collar so nicely for everyone to see how good you are.” 

The praise sends tingles down his spine. Yes, he is good. He can control himself. Forever will he be grateful for what Steve has given him today.

**Author's Note:**

> Zilia is the one to thank for the clean up of this piece. My stories would look pretty shit without her.


End file.
